


hello, my old heart

by oceanfire



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Self-Discovery, Sunsets, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25125460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanfire/pseuds/oceanfire
Summary: As Killua travels the world with his sister, the next year and a half become an exercise of learning about wildfires and the words that trail after, moving ahead without forgetting what he left behind, and finally stepping out into the sun.
Relationships: Alluka Zoldyck & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 19
Kudos: 68





	hello, my old heart

**Author's Note:**

> in which i talk about my hatred for sunblock under the guise of a killua fic for his birthday

For as long as the Zoldyck family has practiced the art of assassination, eyes glinting and sharp with knives even more so, the forest of Kukuroo Mountain has shielded them from the sun. Tourists and locals of the Republic of Padokea who were brave enough would argue that the forest simply served to protect the family from prying looks and skeptical journalists, but no one has been able to prove it, going in but never coming back out, earning the Zoldyck family their mysterious reputation. Thus, the forest stands, a wide mountain blanket of great green expanse too thick to let even the faintest sliver of sunshine through — a wall that has never once come down, never crumbling much like a castle rampart. 

Killua Zoldyck, the youngest heir still learning his trade, is six years old when he steps outside of the house, only to be stopped by one of the butlers so that they may give him some sunscreen — a mother’s job taken care of by servant hands. Killua lays his arms in front of them reluctantly, uncomfortable with the less than pleasant feeling the lotion leaves behind, cold and persistent in making its presence known on every inch of his exposed skin, from soft and scarred to sticky and sunblind. But he stays still, lets them lather it on him, plays the role of the obedient son and kind master, but itching to run away, please, the playground is _right there._

“Why do I have to do this?” Killua voices out his distaste, tongue sticking out. The smell of sunscreen is everywhere on his skin, on his arms and on his legs, and even worse, on his face and on the tip of his nose. It’s sharp and unfamiliar, and he doesn’t like the way it feels like something is crawling up his skin, how he feels like he’s stuck moving slower. 

“It’s for your own protection,” the butler tells him patiently, still concentrating on the task before her. She’s a young woman, hair pulled back in a ponytail, touch gentle. Killua can tell she’s new because she looks at him kindly, as if she sees an actual child and not the prodigy trained to kill. Most of the butlers, except for the ones tasked to him, stay away from him, wearing weariness like a coat they don’t bother to hide. “Wouldn’t want you getting sunburns now, would we?” 

Killua thinks she definitely must not know the extent of the things he’s done, whether it be with his very own claws or the weapons his parents seldom let him use, because she would know that he could handle it. Whatever sunburns would feel like — he thinks they must be painful by the sound of her voice — he could handle it. That’s what he’s trained for. 

He wants to scoff, but her words ring inside his head, a bell that refuses to be ignored. _It’s for your own protection._ Those are the same words his brother, Illumi, tells him whenever Killua collapses from exhaustion during training, urging him to get back up again despite Killua’s gasps for breath. _I’m not always going to be there, Kil, so you must get stronger on your own. It’s for your own protection._ He hears it when his mother gives him food laced with poison, the only type of dish she seems capable of cooking up, the sweetness in her voice utterly fake as she praises him for gulping it all down, as he pulls the curtains down on the nausea he feels. 

“There,” the butler says, giving his arm one last rub with lotion, cutting off his thoughts. “All done.” 

Killua nods at her, and then stares down at his arms with thinly veiled disgust. His skin is shiny in places the lotion was spread evenly, but stripes of white still remain, glaring at him mockingly, a reminder of his stickiness. The smell is everywhere on his body, repulsive and persistent. How is this supposed to protect him from the sun? He decides he hates sunscreen. 

“You’ll stop noticing it once you start playing.” She hides a small smile as she looks down on him in amusement. Her arm twitches beside her, as if wishing to move and ruffle his hair, but she clearly decides against it. 

Not knowing what to say, Killua just glances at her one more time, then runs off to the playground, where his toy dinosaurs and robots lay in the sandbox, just where he left it last time. That must have been a cloudy day then, because they didn’t subject him to this awful lotion. He doesn’t remember though, since he only remembers what had happened afterwards — Nanika had appeared in front of the butlers for the first time. 

“Will Alluka come play today?” he asks the butler, who stands a few feet away from him, watching him from afar. 

She only shakes her head in response. Killua can’t help but feel disappointed, not too excited that he’ll have to play by himself today. Alluka always listens to his stories, even the ones that Milluki would call completely unrealistic. He hasn’t seen his sister in a while, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he misses her. But his parents have been focusing on her lately, and he tries not to let the bad feeling in his stomach give way to speculations. They’ll play again soon, anyway. 

He continues playing by himself, moves on from the sandbox to the monkey bars to the slide, all the while the sun beating down on him. Killua thinks the butler was only half right, because after a while, the feeling of sunscreen on his skin is replaced by sweat. Killua stares at the empty playground from where he sits at the top of the slide, colorful and bright but so terribly empty, and finds himself heading back to his room a little too early. 

For as long as the Zoldyck family has practiced the art of assassination, eyes glinting and sharp with knives even more so, they have taught their children to stay within the shadows. Generations over and over born hidden in the darkness, and that is where they must remain, that is where they belong. Just as essential as hand-to-hand combat and poison immunity, they are taught another lesson: do not let your walls crumble, do not let the cracks break wide, lest sunshine will come pouring in given the smallest gap. 

Killua Zoldyck is six years old when he starts wearing long-sleeved shirts. 

_One day — I will tell you about the dream I had, where you and I were together and you did not leave, where I was not terrified and you were not numb, where things were the way we wished they could be and not the way they are._

Killua collapses on the bed as soon as he reaches it, lying on his back with his arms sprawled outwards. It had been a long day, full of trying different chocolates and shopping for various types of clothes, so he can’t really complain. Not when he is finally free from the clutches of the rest of his family, not when he’s just spent all day with Alluka and Nanika, and especially not since they’re safe — when that’s all he’s ever really wanted. Or so he tells himself. 

He closes his eyes just for a moment, counts his breaths and lets the cold rush of air of the hotel room wash over him gently, as he soaks up all the comfort he can today. The thrum of the air conditioner is soft, Alluka has not tuned into the local channel on the television yet, and the faint honking of cars stuck in traffic floors below is muffled enough that it barely trickles into the room. For the first time in weeks, he just breathes, relishes the rise and fall of his chest, and tries not to concentrate on the ache of his feet and what he’s left behind. 

“I’m going to go shower, Brother,” Alluka tells him. Killua only grunts in response, unable to move from his position or even open his eyes. He hears shuffling from his side and the crinkling of what he assumes is from their shopping bags that carry new clothes. It had been his idea to get Alluka new clothes, so that she wouldn’t be stuck in the same outfit as they travelled the world. He had reminded her to only pick a few so that they could pack light, but somehow, Killua had been roped into the excitement radiating off of Alluka, and had found himself purchasing a few new shirts. 

After a moment, he hears the shower head turn on, the sound of pouring water joining the rest of the white noise in Killua’s head. He tries not to think of anything else other than the happiness he had felt today, makes sure that the memory becomes more than a watercolor painting in his head, details sure and lines bold. It's a routine he’s done ever since leaving the World Tree, recounting his steps since that moment and makes sure he pockets the good memories, and maybe, just maybe, the nightmares will remain at bay, even just for one night. He thinks about the blue of Alluka’s eyes, shining in excitement, and prays it replaces the blue of Chimera Ant blood. 

He’s almost about to doze off when something nudges his side. Alluka stands at the edge of the bed, hair wet and wearing pajamas, looking fresher than Killua’s felt in years. 

“Brother,” she says, tone chiding. “You have to go shower, you’re all dirty.” 

“I will in a bit,” he says, but makes no move to follow, closing his eyes one more. He can’t seem to — his arms feel heavy by his side, legs jelly. Compared to the chill the bed radiates on his back, a hot shower feels miles away right now. 

Alluka just sighs, taking a seat on the bed next to him. Killua feels the bed dip as she does so, and he looks up at her. 

“Where do you want to go next?” he asks. If anything, it’s to distract her from reminding him to shower once more, but he really does need to know. They’ve been traveling for a few months now, from colorful valleys to well-known tourist spots to bustling cities, exploring every nook and cranny. They’ve never stayed in a place for more than three days, and this city is no exception. As their world changes and grows around them, from countrysides to cityscapes, so do they. Killua has let Alluka pick each and every one of their destinations, never once disagreeing with her final decision, wherever it may be. It may be repetitive, this cycle of never sitting still, but Killua likes it, takes comfort in his own expectancy, especially since he’s with his sister. 

“Hm,” she hums in reply, thinking it over. “I’ll get the map.” 

She reaches over on the bedside table for the world map they had bought before all of this, freckled now with markers and circles of places they've already been to. Alluka closes her eyes as Killua moves to lay on his chest, watching as she blindly drags her finger around the map before stopping abruptly. “Here!” she declares. 

When Killua looks over at the map and sees where they’re headed to next, his heart gives a small lurch. It’s a small island all the way on the other hemisphere, famous for its colorful docks and market stalls, where merchants from all over the world come in to trade, embroidered garments and secrets up their sleeves. His eyes glaze over to the neighboring tourist attractions, and he sees what he already knew what was right there. 

Whale Island. 

It’s a little off to the side, and if Alluka had waited a few more seconds before stopping, that would have undoubtedly been their next detour. He thinks of white sheets dancing to the breeze on a clothesline, birds soaring overhead, treetops as far as the eye can see, the warmth of a fire. Killua had absolutely loved it there, and he knows that Alluka would too, but they can’t go there. He can’t, not right now, not yet. 

“Nancha City it is, then,” Killua says. Alluka’s smiling at him, eyes the blaze of hearth, her constant excitement before they venture off to a new place unwavering. The journey will take three days at least to get there, but it’s not the longest trip they’ve ever had to take. Killua could always use Godspeed to get there quicker, but Alluka has taken a liking to the slow drawl of boats on water, comforted by the soft crashing of waves in the background. 

Finally, he turns to get up from the bed, making his way to the shower. Alluka sets the world map back on the table, and he makes a mental note to fold it up back again in their bag. It would be terrible to lose it; Killua can’t keep track of all the places they’ve been to already, the map is his only souvenir. 

“Brother,” he hears Alluka call out, just as he’s about to enter the bathroom. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you want to,” she hesitates, not meeting Killua’s eyes, “visit Whale Island?” 

And of course, she noticed. Even if she hadn’t received the training Killua or any of her brothers had to go through, she’s still a Zoldyck. She carries the same potential for strategy planning, has the uncanny ability of picking out even the smallest details, calculating and dependable in the matters of the heart. After months of traveling with her, he’s learned that Alluka just looks out for different details, of which their family would usually look over. Killua hasn’t been subtle about Gon, how can he when he’s in all of Killua’s stories? He wonders what else Alluka has noticed, with the smoke in his lungs and the inky darkness of eyes acting as the ghosts that favor his sleep. 

“No,” he tells her. “Not yet.”

“But don’t you miss Gon?” Alluka asks, her voice disbelieving. 

“We talk on the phone every week,” he points out. Alluka shakes her head at him, and he falters, unsure of what to say. He can’t face Gon yet, not when there’s still so much both of them have to work through, when they both need this second chance back at the beginning. They can’t be together for this, even if it hurts.

So he shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about me, alright?” 

“But you worry about me all the time!” she protests, gripping the bed sheets in her hands. Killua blinks, surprised by the determination in her eyes. “It’s only fair!”

“Oh,” Killua says because it’s all he can manage right now. After all this time, he really should be used to this, especially since he had been with Gon for the better part of two years — this blatant show of affection and love. But he hadn’t been able to say what was on his mind to Gon, who had considered him a good friend. This time, however, he’s determined to be an even better brother. “Uh, thank you, Alluka. But I’m fine, promise.”

“I care about you, Brother,” Alluka says. “Nanika too. We just want you to be happy.” 

“I am!” Killua says. “I love traveling with you.” 

Alluka looks like she wants to say something, to protest even further, but she closes her mouth, and her eyes soften. She sighs, “Go shower, Brother. You stink.” 

“I will—hey!” Killua yells, offended, but not without a laugh. He quickly walks back over to the bed where Alluka is, and ruffles her hair. Alluka squeaks in surprise, whining for him to stop. Her hair hasn’t completely dried up yet, so when he pulls back, his hand is wet and her hair is strewn all over her face. She sticks her tongue at him, to which Killua only does the same expression back before heading off to the bathroom. 

The water from the shower is all kinds of welcoming warm, reminiscent of the Whale Island sun beating down on his back. 

Tomorrow, they will pack all their new clothes, and they’ll be off before the sun will make its first greeting of the day, as if they were never there to begin with. For now, he’ll try to find some comfort in the night. 

_When does a war end? When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?_

There’s smoke everywhere again, trees burning up right before his eyes, tendrils curling up towards the sky in dense clouds. The smell fills his lungs and clings onto his clothes, electricity buzzing around in his ears. He can barely see, hardly stopping himself from tripping over roots and bumping into trunks. He’s running through the forest, running and running and running, never stopping, always giving chase. The moon follows along, full and constant in its own reaching for the sun, but always a little too late. 

Killua hopes he is not the same. 

And there he sees him. It’s Gon, but couldn’t be the furthest thing from his best friend. 

Eyes empty, broken, the light dimming out. There’s blood everywhere, but it’s a dark blue, and it isn’t Gon’s. Killua looks up, which is _wrong,_ Gon has always been slightly shorter than him, why is he looking up, he’s the taller one—

Years and years stretch out in the boy before him, compressing all of it into this moment, on the precipice of finally giving out, finally fading away. There’s even more blood this time, and Killua can’t breathe, there’s too much smoke and a scream is stuck in his throat. Gon sees him, but Killua’s not sure, and he’s reaching out, but he’s always too late, hair bright as the moon he takes after. 

What else had happened in the forest that night? A heart, breaking. Walls up. 

That night ends with a bang, but Gon almost ends with a whimper. 

Killua wakes up with a start, breaths quick and pulse racing. He grips the blanket in front of him, and tries to even out his breathing, so he doesn’t wake up his sister. His bedsheets are crumpled by his feet, a mountain range pushed too close to the edge. He sneaks a glance at Alluka, who sleeps soundly on the bed pushed next to him on his left, nose twitching once in a dream. Killua gets out of bed, slowly making his way towards the window. 

From up here, Killua can see the highway that races right in front of the hotel they’re in, cars beeping their way through the night. There is only a slight traffic, nothing compared to what he’d seen in York New City. Car lights blink up at him scattered and bright red, a set of constellations on the ground simply trying to match the stars that lay within the heavens above. There aren’t that many buildings around, but there’s a park nearby, desolate and empty. Earlier, Killua and Alluka had bought ice cream from a vendor along the street that crawls through the park, and the sweetness of the chocolate had remained on his tongue for the rest of the day. 

They’ve been to countless cities already, but each one had always offered their own unique features. Shopping in one, beautiful parks in the second, ice skating rinks in another. There hasn’t been a single shortage of things for them to do in cities, so that is where they find themselves in more often than not. He’ll never admit it, but Killua likes cities better — there are no forests around for miles, but escape routes through windows and glass doors. He and Alluka can blend in crowds, slip in through the crevices between people, in and out, and have fun all in one. 

As he glances out the window, he tries not to linger on the reason he’d awaken in the first place. He sighs to himself quietly, resigning himself to another sleepless night. 

See, Killua’s thought about it, and he was never mad at Gon. There should be a word for it when your best friend decides on his own that he should be the only one who’s punished. There should be a word for when he’d been pushed away even though he so desperately wanted to help. There should be a word for what he had felt that night, when he had carried Gon for the second time in the same forest, unable to feel anything except fear. There should be a word for this. 

He thinks it might be _survivor_ — the last one to come home, to be alive but weighed down with ghosts he never asked for. 

But he’s never been one for words, anyway. 

This does not mean he doesn’t talk a lot — ends up doing the exact opposite sometimes, words flowing outside of his mouth, each and every one blooming out of time with each other, never in sync, never the right ones. Words were never something he needed to say, just something to fill the gap. Killua says rude things, cold and calculated, sarcastic and scathing. But never loving, never soft, never kind. He hadn’t developed the vocabulary for that kind, hadn’t needed to until he found himself in a dark underground tunnel, in front of, quite ironically, the brightest shade of sunshine he’s ever seen, daylight in the shape of the boy in front of him. By then, he still talked a lot, but the words didn’t fit quite right anymore, thorns no longer gave way to poison, and he found himself stumbling for words he never knew existed — for words he later learned he should’ve known since the start. So until now, especially since he’s with Alluka, he barrels on, tries to make up for what he grew up lacking, an old dusted picture that didn’t develop quite right, never exposed to the right light. 

But now in the epilogue of a nightmare, standing by a hotel window, Killua thinks words seem to take on the same language as bravery, and that’s why he’s always felt something missing. 

He’s seen bravery from Alluka, demanding that he love Nanika just as much as he loves her, fighting for the both of them when family got too mixed up with the fear in his head. He’s seen it in Gon, over and over and over in those daybreak ember eyes, until it had often blurred into stupidity, bled into stubbornness. 

Killua doesn’t think he’s brave, but what he does have is bravado. He pushes, impresses, intimidates his way through a fight, uses the words he does know to squirm his way out of it. He knows a minefield when he sees one, attentive to its geography, how to slip in and out without blowing a fuse. Killua’s a good fighter, will charge once the odds are just right, and will give it his all to protect what he’s been cost. But Gon’s a brave fighter, one who will charge into a battle because it’s what’s right, and will champion above it all, even if it costs more than what he’d bargained for. 

He doesn’t know if he wants to be brave though, not if Gon isn’t by his side anymore. 

But he’ll keep the words he’s learned, learning the daily routine of telling those he loves what he feels, telling the truth until it doesn’t hurt anymore. Until he’s not scared. What he wants is to be free, to no longer be constructed by all of his words, because freedom just means he no longer has to be brave, no more need for even bravado. 

Just the love he’s trying to keep. 

_I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal._

“Hello?” 

“Killua!” Gon exclaims, and Killua has to pull his ear away from the receiver. His voice is the same as Killua remembers it, if not often cracking at the edges. He wonders if it’ll be completely different when they see each other again. There’s a little bit of static from the other end, the wind howling by — Gon must be outside. 

“You don’t need to scream it,” Killua says. He’s not bothered at all, after all this time, he’s gotten used to it, after all, but Gon doesn’t need to know that. 

“Sorry, Killua,” Gon says, and he has the decency to sound sheepish. “Where are you right now?” 

“We’re camping in some random mountain right now. Couldn’t be bothered to listen to the tour guide,” Killua says offhandedly. He’d been staring at his phone the entire time they were on tour, only stopping frequently to take photos of the views and of Alluka and Nanika. He’d been discreetly making sure that wherever they went, he’d be able to find a phone signal, but it had been an incredibly frustrating ordeal. Alluka’s knowing eyes hadn’t improved his mood either. So here he sits almost at the very top of a tree, campsite lingering below him, as he talks to Gon in the middle of the night on the phone, as they have been every week. 

“Oh, that’s so cool!” Gon says. Killua’s never had the same affinity for nature as Gon. Even though he’d grown up on Kukuroo Mountain, the trees did not love him the same way Whale Island had nurtured this boy of the summer. It was simply there to protect, to shield. It was not an adventure for island boys with eyes towards the sky, towards the sun. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice here,” Killua says. “Yesterday, we went to a small indoor garden. Alluka loved the pink flowers. You would’ve—” He bites his lip, unsure of how to continue. He doesn’t want to make Gon feel like he’s being left out, stuck at home with homework while Killua travels the world. Killua only has a vague idea for how Gon is right now, how he’s been dealing with what had happened that night, dragon stars falling from the sky and the world ending right before his eyes, but never for anyone else. 

A familiar feeling finds its way through his stomach, settling on his shoulders something heavy and dark. It’s suffocating, and he can’t breathe. There are so many things that have been taken away from them since that night, in those few minutes of midnight that last forever in his dreams, and distance is just another one of those thieves, an accomplice to time. He doesn’t know what else he’s capable of losing, if he could endure any more loss than he already has. There are so many things he wants to tell Gon, if he would listen, and undoubtedly, hopefully, so much more Gon would confess to him if he believed Killua would understand. 

“Killua,” Gon’s voice cuts through the static of the call, the fog of his mind. “Where’d you go?” 

“I’m here. Sorry,” Killua says, shakes his head. He looks upwards, where the stars shine down on him, gentle in their twinkle and persistent in their number. He doesn’t know when it had gotten so dark, when the moment had passed that he can no longer tell where the stars begin and the trees end, branches reaching out to the sky, growing and growing despite it all. 

“You can tell me everything, you know. I won’t get jealous or anything,” Gon tells him, voice soothing and calm like the sky that sits beyond the mountains. “I know why I need to be here. There are things I need to figure out first.”

“Yeah,” Killua doesn’t know when his voice had gotten so soft, but he knows Gon hears him all the same. “Me too.” 

“I helped some fishermen today,” Gon says after a while, filling in the blanks. It’s a page Killua wishes they don’t have to write, to be in the first place, but they need to. “They were really nice. And they gave me some free fish, too! Aunt Mito was really excited at that.” 

“Had a good dinner, then?” Killua asks. 

“Yeah,” Gon says, but then adds quickly, “It’s not exciting as your stories, but—” 

“Hey, hey, no,” Killua quickly interjects. He swallows down the initial instinct to take it back, because what he might say next would be embarrassing, would lay him down vulnerable. But he’s been trying harder lately at saying what he means because that’s what had helped them get into this mess in the first place, and above all, this is Gon. It's _just_ Gon, but it’s also _especially_ Gon. “I like talking to you.”

He keeps his eyes shut, fights down the flush of pink he knows will have tinged the tips of his ears and cheeks already, but he doesn’t feel mortified. It’s something he had to say, for the both of them, and there isn’t a single regret. He had told what was true, but not in the same way he had been taught by his brothers, when he had used to promise his victims a quick death. It’s the truth, and he had told a kind one. 

“I like talking to you too, Killua!” Gon says, and Killua doesn’t need to see it to know his eyes are bright, smile widening. He looks up at the sky once more, and sends a quick _thank you_ to the stars, for nothing else except that they are still above him. 

They continue on talking for another hour, sharing stories of the past week, imaginations wild and the world spinning on around them. Gon talks about his dreams, as unrealistic as they may be, and Killua laughs along, teases and sarcastic remarks in all the right places. It's easy to slip back into this, when it’s just a hello-goodbye phone call rolled into an instance, but Killua doesn’t want to pretend like nothing’s changed. He knows Gon feels the same way too, and that’s why they can’t meet again. Nothing will ever be the same again, there isn’t any going back, and once they had pretended it was. It wasn’t right, and they were too young. So here they are, trying once more, going through a dawn they didn’t expect to see. 

“Aunt Mito told me to always remember the good parts of the day,” Gon tells him, much later on. “That way, I’ll never forget, and I can think about them on worse days.” 

Killua thinks about what Gon might mean by worse days, and guilt forms in his knees, reaching upwards until it rests itself in his chest, gnawing and growing. What must it be like to see Gon’s worse days? To go through them? Killua isn’t there for him right now, to save him from the smoke. He had chosen himself this time, and it was the right move, there are still things he has to figure out, but it doesn’t make it any less difficult to be left wondering. 

He doesn’t know how to tell Gon that he does the same thing every night, replays memories in his head the way they’re supposed to be cherished in hopes that the nightmares will be kinder to him. He doesn’t know how to say _we are still so close, after all_. _Distance has not taken as much from us_ , the shadows of their memories, on two different pages now, miles away in islands never near, merging. The only person who could have ever understood him was Gon, until he didn’t, clogs in a clock that had finally run out of time. The clock ticks once now, though, the ghost of its movement resounding, finally returning. 

“I do that too,” he says instead. “It helps a lot.” 

“You think, Killua?” Gon says. “We’ll figure it out eventually, then.” 

“What makes you say that?” Killua asks. He wants that optimism that one day, everything will be alright once more. He’s not foolish enough to hope everything will be as it was; he’s already learned that lesson. For now, he’ll find comfort in Gon’s confidence, in the way the distance between their hearts does not widen, even after all this time. 

“Because it’s you and me,” is all Gon says. “We’re gonna be okay.” 

“Yeah,” Killua agrees. Then he looks up at the sky, and there are even more stars than there were last time. He wonders what time it is. The branches creak under him quietly as he stands from his position, readying himself for the jump down. 

“I’ve got to go,” Killua tells Gon. “I’ll talk to you next week?” 

“Of course!” Gon affirms, and Killua smiles. “Tell me how the tour goes! And if you see any cool birds!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Killua says, and prepares himself for all the bird pictures he’s going to have to save on his phone to send to Gon later, blurry wings and mid-flights. “Bye, Gon.”

“Bye, Killua!” The static ends. 

Killua jumps down for the tree, not once making a sound. He finds the tent Alluka and he are sleeping in, navigates through the campsite swiftly, the last embers of a fire going out crackling behind him. He nestles himself beside Alluka, whose back is turned away from him. Killua grabs the blankets and rights it on top of her, making sure her body is covered comfortably. Then, he does the same for himself. 

As he’s about to doze off, Alluka speaks up, surprising him. “I know you weren’t listening to the tour guide earlier because you were antsy waiting for Gon to call.”

“I wasn’t antsy,” he defends, but it’s a weak attempt and they both know it. Their phone calls have become a highlight of his weeks, even since it’s almost been a year since the World Tree. He hasn’t come to think of it as a separation; he doesn’t know if it’s because of the finality that comes with it, but it doesn’t feel right, like an arrow that had barely missed its mark — not a big deal in theory but had cost a championship. 

“Anyway,” Alluka continues on, turning to face him. Her eyes are bright even in the darkness, but it leaves no shadow behind. “The tour guide said that this side of the mountain has wildfires almost every year. The trees get really burnt, but for some reason, the locals just let it happen. They don’t try to stop it.” 

“Why wouldn’t they?” Killua asks. He knows firsthand the unpleasantries of a burning forest, wood blackened and the ground reduced to a crisp around him, no way in or out. 

“I didn’t really get it, but wildfires help the environment and the soil,” she explains. “And some plants need the fire for their seeds to sprout. The forest needs the fire to grow.”

Killua nods, but he’s still a bit confused. “Why are you telling me this now?” 

Alluka shrugs as she meets his eyes. “I just think it’s important. And it’s a nice fact, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Killua says. Then he smiles at her, proud of how she’s learning, of how she’s far from the girl who had been trapped underneath a mountain’s grand estate, surrounded by fake blue skies painted hastily in a room. “Now go to sleep. We get up early tomorrow.”

“You’re the one who spent hours talking to Gon,” she pouts, but yawns almost right afterwards, making Killua chuckle. 

“Goodnight, Alluka.”

“Goodnight, Brother.”

Alluka turns her back once more to him, and soon enough, he hears her breath even out as she picks up what he hopes is a kind dream. Killua, always one to be stuck in the night, however, thinks about her words. He remembers the Bomber from Greed Island, cannon booms ricocheting through his chest, as he uses his ability to blast enemies away. The way fire had been his only weapon and near demise. Expectedly, he ends up thinking of Peijing once more, of a fire’s rampage strong and stubborn enough to battle storms, leaving gaping wounds of black soil and ashen wood. He thinks of finding Gon in the middle of the forest, with an explosion to end it all. He hadn’t seen the way the trees around them crumbled, the grass learning a new shade of black in the darkness, too caught up trying to get Gon out of there. 

_The forest needs fire to grow_. Killua hopes that there is more to what he had just learned, that Alluka’s words had meant more than the forest they now rest in, that the same can apply to him. Proof that nothing is the end, when there is always something to grow. Something beautiful. 

_Everybody needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else._

When Killua sees Leorio for the first time in a year, he learns that even though things change, some favor the permanence, and he still has friends that remain, that will stay. 

The reason for this unexpected reunion was that Killua and Alluka had been in the next city over to where Leorio resides, apartment and medicine school within reach. They needed a place to stay, and it had been a while since they had seen someone who wasn’t a complete stranger, so Killua had given Leorio a call. The older man must have been waiting for a call, however, since he picked up the phone almost immediately, voice scratchy but ultimately unchanged. 

“Killua! How are you?” Leorio greets them out on the street outside his apartment building, and before Killua can stop him, ruffles his hair. Killua lets out an annoyed huff at this, hair now even messier than it usually is, but he welcomes it all the same, touch comforting by someone familiar. If Gon were with them right now, they would have been in a giant group hug by now, but Leorio respectfully keeps his distance. 

“I’m good. Not getting too old are you, Leorio?” he says, slipping into banter easily. 

“See you haven’t fixed your manners,” Leorio huffs, crossing his arms. He shoots Killua an unamused look, but he immediately tugs his mouth into a smile, the gentlest upwards curve, as he notices who stands next to Killua, half-hidden by his shoulder. 

“Leorio, this is Alluka. You met last time, sort of,” Killua says. Leorio and Alluka had met briefly when Nanika had healed Gon, but it had been a complete mess of bustling hospital workers and out-of-place politicians, and Killua didn’t want to stick around for any longer than they already had, especially with Alluka and Nanika’s safety his topmost priority. He had terribly needed a nap, but couldn’t have one unless they were left alone. 

He sees Alluka step outside beside him now, and Leorio grins even wider. “Hello, little miss!” 

Alluka giggles as Leorio gives her a hug, prior weariness absent. Leorio picks her up easily and spins her around, once, twice, making Alluka grin even wider. And suddenly, Killua doesn’t feel any regret coming here, warmth spreading in his chest as he grins at the both of them, Alluka’s laugh bubbling in the air. Nanika will want a turn for sure, but it will have to be later when they’re inside Leorio’s apartment, blocked away from any prying eyes. 

“Come on, let's get lunch,” Leorio says once he finally puts Alluka down, but he doesn’t let go of her hand. If Killua secretly didn’t trust Leorio so much, he would have never allowed it, uncomfortable with the idea of someone with a grip on Alluka, but not in order to protect her. “I know a few good places that you guys can try.” 

“Lead the way, old man,” Killua says, dodging the hand Leorio swipes to hit him on the shoulder. 

“I’m not that old!” 

Later that day, they find themselves sitting on a park bench, the sun glowing orange on everything it can touch, illuminating the grass and all the flowers with the faintest touch. The sky is painted a beautiful pink, watercolor clouds making their way towards the horizon slowly as the sun prepares its goodbye for the day. Leorio had been, to his utmost regret and disappointment, called back to work for an emergency patient a few hours earlier. He had promised to call them as soon as he was done so that they could all have dinner together. Killua and Alluka had spent the better part of this afternoon eating ice cream and strolling through the different well-worn pathways, but now they are retired on the bench, watching the sunset. 

“I’m glad you made friends, Brother,” Alluka tells him softly, eyes never leaving the horizon line, face half-full of shadows in all the places the sun was unable to reach. 

“You should thank Gon for that,” Killua tells her instead of asking the reason for that comment. Alluka will tell him eventually, show her cards on her latest discovery or revelation. Killua thinks that sometimes, she’s too wise for her age. “I would have never befriended Leorio or Kurapika if he didn’t push us to be together all the time during the Hunter Exam.” 

Alluka just hums under her breath, as the wind chimes in time with her, the breeze carrying her song. She looks calm like this, with nothing else to sweep them away, no more cute dogs running around for attention, ice cream vendors ringing their bells. “Before you came, I don’t think I was lonely.” 

“Alluka—”

“I mean I was, obviously,” she continues, not minding Killua’s interruption. She seems determined to tell Killua something, just as she had been the night of the story of the wildfires, on a mountain of a name Killua still can’t recall. “But I had Nanika, you know? I wasn’t ever really alone.” 

Killua looks at her, and he sees bravery. The way the sun shines on her now has nothing to do with it, lighting up her curls and dancing off of the beads she and Nanika painstakingly handcrafted when they were young. He won’t ever forget how she had stood up to him, demanding that he love Nanika as well as he loved her, using the words he’d still been so desperately trying to learn. She has stood by Nanika since the beginning, never once faltering in her quest to find somewhere they can belong together. Since then, Killua has tried his best to give them that; it’s the least they deserve. Alluka is brave, and Killua is still trying. 

“I’m glad you two have each other,” Killua says. He’s so thankful that they didn’t have to go through their family alone like he did, grateful that he had remembered and gotten them out in time, an old memory dusted off and resurfacing with the retraction of a needle. 

“I’m glad you have Gon,” she tells him, and she finally faces him. Her eyes are alight with the sunset as her backdrop, the faint pink on her cheeks a perfect set to the sky that soars above them. 

“Yeah, me too,” he says, can’t help but think of the first day on Greed Island, a new adventure right at their fingertips, Gon had told him thank you. He thinks of all the words he still hasn’t said, swallowed down in a time of stress and adrenaline, but now demanding his attention, and all the words he still hasn’t heard. 

“You have friends that care about you,” Alluka says. “They’re just waiting for you to open up to them.”

There are very few people Killua would call his friends, and even fewer he would ever willingly open up to. He could count their names on one hand and still have fingers left, remnants of his family’s teachings of invulnerability still rotting, still dripping into his mind every time they see him slip into doubt. Killua has always wanted friends, but was never allowed to have them, and until now, he is still trying to get used to the feeling. Gon undoubtedly claims the title of his best friend, and Killua has never once questioned it, but he’s loath to admit he’s scared, terrified of ever opening up and the words not coming out the way he wants them to. 

“Hm,” Killua just says, tearing his gaze away from her and staring out at the sun. If he looks at it long enough, he knows the sun will leave its imprint behind his eyelids, and maybe it’ll leave him less afraid of the darkness. 

Killua sits at the kitchen table as he watches the clock on the wall strike midnight. After such a tiring and pleasant day, he had hoped to fall asleep immediately, succumb to the tiredness in his eyes and heavy feeling in his bones, wrongness sitting on his shoulders as still as it’s been ever since the World Tree. This isn’t the first night he’s spent like this, waiting for the slow precipice of daybreak to come, but he doesn’t know if it’s any better than the nights he spends plagued by nightmares and tears in his eyes. 

He doesn’t feel much of anything right now, emptiness a vague buzz in his head, as he stares at the wall. Killua stares blankly at the pale blue wall, moon barely illuminating the room, afraid to leave its mark come morning. He can’t help but think he’d used up all of his emotions from earlier that day, caught up with the excitement and hearty dinners with Leorio and Alluka. 

“Kid,” he hears, but Killua doesn’t move, unsurprised. Distantly, he feels a flicker of annoyance due to his night being interrupted. At least now it won’t be completely boring, however. Leorio yawns and stretches the daze out of his limbs as he makes his way over to the couch where he sits. “What are you doing up this late?” 

When Killua doesn’t answer, Leorio just sighs, resigned, and turns around. Killua thinks that might be the end of it, he’ll resume this night alone with thoughts that don’t fully register, but Leorio heads in the completely opposite direction from his bedroom, straight towards the kitchen. 

“I’m going to go make hot chocolate,” he declares, opening cupboards and drawers to get the ingredients ready. Killua sits still, but his fingers twitch a bit at the mention of his favorite drink, which Leorio undoubtedly notices. 

After a few minutes, a steaming cup of chocolate is being pushed into his hands, the sugary smell wafting through the air, and he breathes it in, one at a time, and relishes the feeling all around him. Leorio sits next to him on the couch, leaning back and watching him. Slowly, fingers white and gripping the cup, he brings it to his lips and drinks. The drink is terribly sweet, his favorite kind, but it leaves his tongue rough and bitter with the aftertaste. It's still too hot for him to taste any more of the flavors, so he sets it down once more, hands never letting go of the warmth it radiates. 

“Killua,” Leorio asks, voice hesitant and careful, like a hunter waiting on its prey, but Killua reminds himself that he’s safe here, and Leorio will not hurt him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, immediately, too quickly. Leorio isn’t fooled by this at all, eyebrows knit together in worry and concern. _You shouldn’t be_ , Killua thinks to himself. _I’m too much trouble than whatever it's worth._

Tentatively, Leorio brings a hand to Killua’s knee and just like this morning, the touch soothes him, brings him back to reality just a little. “You haven’t insulted me once since I got here,” Leorio says. “Just tell me how you’re feeling?” 

Suddenly, possibly due to Leorio’s prodding, Killua doesn’t know, he feels it all at once. There’s a heavy pressure right at his chest, that’s dread, heat rising back up his throat, but it’s not the hot chocolate, it’s sadness, and there’s a deep pang in his stomach that feels a lot like longing. He can’t see much right now, and it’s not because of the dim lightning, the moon is still beaming, there are tears forming in his eyes now, and he’s gonna accidentally spill it on the hot chocolate, just like he always does, ruins things that were once perfect just by being there, because he tried and couldn’t protect them in time. Killua hurts, and he can’t breathe, and he just wants to curl up and go to sleep because at least the nightmares can end, but this is _real_ , and he doesn’t know if it will ever finish, if the storm will ever pass him by. 

“Kid, Killua, what’s wrong?” Leorio’s there, still next to him, and he’s prying the cup from his hands, setting it on the table. Killua wants to thank him for that because he was worried about it, but he can’t speak, not when there are other things on his mind. “Breathe, just breathe, alright?” 

Killua nods, tries to slow down his pace, and thinks of the good memories of the day, just as what he always does each night. There’s the cool ice cream he had tried with Alluka today, the afternoon sun on their shoulders, Killua had laughed when Alluka accidentally scared away a dog she simply thought was cute, Leorio ruffling his hair in a busy street. There’s also Gon’s laughter yesterday through a phone call with less signal that it should have, muffled but as earnest as ever, the memory of Whale Island breeze through his hair, and stars right above a crackling fire. 

“I was never mad at Gon,” he chokes out, finally. These are the words that he’s repeated over and over to himself, truth incessant still. He adds, more quietly, “I just wanted to help, but he didn’t let me.” 

“Killua—”

“I couldn’t stop him, and he almost _died_ , Leorio,” he says, finally looking at his companion in the eye, afraid of what he’ll see. Leorio’s never seen him like this before, and so has Alluka, because he’d made sure of it. He had thought he was doing so well, too. 

But Leorio stays, keeps his hand on Killua’s knee and another on his back, rubbing faint circles in comfort. Normally, Killua would slap them away, claim he doesn’t need the help or the pitying look, but he’s just so tired, he can’t find it in himself too. 

“You know,” Leorio says after a while, leaning back again, thinking his words over. The hot chocolate doesn’t look so warm anymore from where they sit on the table, steam now absent. Even now as they remain in the moon’s direct trajectory, it is not enough to bring back their initial warmth. Killua wonders what that could mean. “There are still things I wish I could tell Kurapika, too. Especially after the trip to the Dark Continent.” 

Killua heard about the expedition on the Dark Continent; it had been on the news not too soon after he had started traveling with Alluka. It had created a buzz everywhere they went, this mysterious land so few have ventured into, a seat on a ship reserved only for those grand enough. He doesn’t know what both Leorio and Kurapika had seen in there, what their journey had entailed, and wonders why he’d never thought to ask before now, especially when it holds secrets man has never even dreamed of. He’d once overheard whispers from his grandfather of how his own ancestors had once braved that very land, but that’s all he knows. Gon also told him that that’s where Ging had set his eyes on, and it must be more dangerous than Killua could ever imagine if that’s where the most daring adventurer had wanted to go. 

“What does that have to do with me?” Killua asks, wiping the tears of his face messily. They’re already drying up, leaving his face feeling cracked and stiff. 

“Well, there are things we both need to say to them,” Leorio explains. “And that’s scary and confusing, but they're both still here, right? They’re not going anywhere. Especially Gon, if it's for you.” 

“Why would Gon stay?'' he croaks out, finally voicing what he’s been fearing all along. Even though he always says that they’re going to meet again, and Gon’s said it too, in all hopes that they’ll get it right one day, he’s still all bravado. He’s still scared that Gon will one day turn away, will refuse to listen to what he has to say. He’s still trying to be his own person. What reason has Killua given Gon to stay, after all this time? 

“Is it really so difficult for you to imagine that somebody could stay?” Leorio says, tone gentle and soft, but insistent all the same. “Gon loves you, Killua. That’s all there is to it.” 

But is it really? Here’s the thing: Killua Zoldyck is fourteen years old, his white hair a family prophecy and lightning running through his veins. He’d been taught to kill swiftly, in and out, never leave a mark, and stay out of the sun, don’t let your walls crumble. He is tolerable in exactly three angles and deadly from everywhere else. He didn't know until two years ago that he was capable of love, and by then, he’d only been stumbling along with this new vocabulary, words shrinking in the dark as he fought to stay by the light. He’s been trying to love properly now, but he’s still too afraid to step foot in the sun, Kukuroo Mountain trees rooted firmly in his memories. 

Here’s the thing: It is difficult to expect someone to stay when you don’t know where you stand with them. Because when they leave, you do not have the right to ask them to stay. 

“Yeah, well,” Killua says instead, unable to answer Leorio’s question, which will undoubtedly follow him wherever he goes, as persistent as the moon through the woods. He waves his hand, in an attempt to dismiss the conversation, but Leorio isn’t impressed. 

“You’re ridiculous. You guys are the best pair of friends I’ve ever met,” Leorio says. “And you guys were just kids, Killua. God, you still are. You have all the time in the world to grow.” Killua looks down on his fingers, which look even paler in the moonlight. Leorio adds thoughtfully, “And if you can, grow together. No fun in doing it alone.”

“But I can’t,” he says, exasperated at the most frustrating part of all of this. He can’t see Gon, not when he misses him terribly, not when he’s learning about the world and half-expects Gon to be at his side every time he turns his shoulder. They can’t see each other because there’s still so much they have to do on their own. “Gon knows that too.” 

“Then maybe one day, you can,” Leorio just says. “Anyway, you have friends right here, Killua. I’m here, and so is Kurapika, even if he doesn’t pick up his phone a lot. You have Alluka. I don’t know what your parents taught you, Killua, but you’re a good kid. My point is you don’t have to do anything alone anymore.”

Killua thinks of days spent on the tiny playground he spent almost afternoons on, sunscreen sticky and spread all over his limbs, a ward against the sun that simply wished to shine down on him. He remembers why he had decided to wear long sleeved shirts more often growing up, all just to avoid butler’s hands full of white lotion that reminded him of more sour days. But he also thinks of the way Gon has worked his way into his every day, eyes bright and a smile to compete with the rising sun. He thinks how it was fun to be with him, and how it didn’t hurt as much as he had been warned it would. In fact, being his friend didn’t hurt at all. 

But then he remembers Gon, face blank, a kid pushed too far over the edge, right at the center of a foreign forest. He remembers the way the wind had screamed loudly in his face as he ran for miles in seconds, searching for him. The fire had lasted for hours, and Killua did not stay to watch the last curls of smoke make its way to the clouds, proud at the job well done. He had felt the fog in his chest for hours after, left wondering who would help the clean-up. 

Alluka’s words ring in his ears, now several moons ago, a reminder in the middle of the night, not unlike this one. _The forest needs fire to grow._

Maybe, this time, if they get it right, then he will no longer be burned. Maybe, a plant will even blossom, stronger and much more resilient than before, a seed that flourishes after all they will have to do. 

“Thank you, Leorio,” Killua says, looking up at him, now leaning back again on the couch, pillows softening at his sides. And since he has a reputation to uphold, he adds, “That was some good old man wisdom.” 

But Leorio looks at him, exhaling in relief, because he sees through Killua’s words, looks past the demeanor many do not have the patience to, and he knows Killua understands. He understands what Leorio had been trying to tell him, and it had helped tremendously, seeded him with a newfound hope. 

“Good. I’m going to head back to my room,” he ruffles Killua’s hair once more before getting up, but Killua does not protest. “You get some sleep soon, alright? We got big plans tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I will.” For once, Killua knows that he will, the voices in his head silent as the streets below and stars above. “Oh, and Leorio?” 

“What is it?” Leorio turns around, halfway towards his room already, right across from where Killua sits in the small living room. 

“I hope you get to talk to Kurapika soon.” 

Leorio smiles at him, full and heartfelt, slowly but as sure as the sun that will uncertainly come around in a few hours. “Thank you.” 

_You have a place in my heart no one else ever could have._

Gon’s call comes late into the afternoon, when the sun has finally settled into the night and the moon begins its reign. 

“There was a huge storm a few days ago,” Gon tells him, after they’ve been on the phone for a little more than an hour. Killua can hear the faint chirping of birds from the other side of the line, cricket sounds and a soft windsong merging all together. 

“Your house okay?” Killua asks. If he remembers correctly, and he knows he does because there is nothing about that short Whale Island trip he can ever forget, Gon’s home rests at the top of a hill, the smell of warm food wafting through the windows, clothesline swaying with the wind, looking down at the view of a village and fishing boats scattered along a small dock. If a storm were ever to find its purpose on that island, Gon would be at the center of it all. 

“Yeah, we’re safe! Although some people had their roofs broken,” Gon says. “But now it’s really sunny everywhere! It makes me really happy.” 

Killua smiles to himself, unsurprised by the way Gon flourishes under the sunshine, the summer boy of Whale Island. He must have spent countless days as the the subject of the sun’s warm affection, a rival to the clouds vying for just a second of that incandescence. He closes his eyes and imagines a younger Gon, lying on a meadow full of the most vibrant flowers, all sunflowers and roses, soaking up the brightness around him, the kind only his island could ever offer. 

It’s a stark contrast to Killua, who had been taught to fear any gaps the trees might leave in the shade. 

But he’s not like that anymore. He remembers the feeling of Gon by his side, touch warm — a campfire that mocks the sun. 

“That’s good,” Killua says. He sits outside of the cabin he and Alluka are staying in now, right on the porch steps with grass by his feet. He looks at the sky again, noticing how there are now stars in the sky, blinking into existence with every passing second, random in their appearance but reliable in their constant shine. He spots the constellations he knows, having poured over them once years ago, when the world still felt unknown and terrifying, when he thought that if he were to stay away from the sun, he could take comfort in the stars. They twinkle down on him like an old friend. 

“What did you do today?” Gon asks him. 

“Nothing much, actually,” Killua says, leaning on the wooden pillar next to him, eyes still on the sky. “We found a small shopping district, so we just bought a few more clothes and chocolate.” 

Killua half-expects Gon’s reply, and briefly marvels how he can still understand the simple things when it comes to his best friend. “Killua! You promised you’d cut back on chocolate!” 

He doesn’t need to be there to know that Gon’s face is pulled into a pout, eyes wide with his disappointment. For the first time, Killua’s a bit glad that he can’t see Gon. He wouldn’t be able to handle the way Gon would undoubtedly look at him, prying and worked up over something that _really isn’t a big deal._

“I did no such thing!” he protests. 

“Leorio said it was bad for you!” Gon chastises. “I don't want you to get sick!”

Killua snorts, rolling his eyes. “Who cares what Leorio thinks?” He ignores Gon’s shout of _he’s a_ doctor, _Killua!_ through the phone and barrels on, adds almost like a reflex, “And you don’t have to worry about me.” 

“Of course I do! You’re important to me,” Gon says immediately. And that, well, Killua doesn’t know what to make of it. 

Because he’s always known that he and Gon were best friends, would have been deaf to not have heard Gon’s declarations of friendships and blind to not have seen the way Gon looked at him even on the earliest mornings, happiness bursting and too sharp to ever match the muted colors of a day where the sun has not come up yet. But this is different, because Killua had said something that had felt too close like _I’m not worth the trouble_ , and Gon had replied without hesitating that he’ll brave it, choose Killua as important, and care for him on purpose. 

Killua’s always felt like he wasn’t enough, lashing out like a cat snuck up on even when he’s perfectly safe, keeps things like hope and happiness close to his chest so that they’re never taken away from him, so that no one can tell him that he doesn’t deserve them. What he feels right now isn’t new, hasn’t been for a very long time, but he thinks he’s finally got the word for it. 

He thinks it’s love. 

He’s always loved Gon, even when he didn’t know what love was, when he’s only ever seen it in faded pictures of strangers on the street, and they’re only meeting now for the first time, introductions being made as they should have been long, long ago. Killua’s in love with Gon, who’s always been so bright and so loving, even when Killua was still working up to deserve it. He knows that he’s felt this way like the way sunshine remains behind your eyelids after staring at the sun for too long, never going away even after you’ve turned away, and even more prominent in the darkness. It's only now that his mind has finally caught up with his heart, with the delivery of a new word in his vocabulary, the depth of his feelings intensified. 

Inexorably, a light will always cast a shadow. The light is Gon, so dense and bright that Killua, always following but never too far away, felt like an unfinished shadow of the first, just glad to be in the warmth. But as it stands now, with miles between them and a forest dividing them, Killua’s promised himself that he won’t hide just in fear of getting burnt anymore. If this is love, then he plans to do so for longer. He will take this newfound hope, and lay down the groundwork. 

“You’re important to me too, you idiot,” he tells Gon, faux nonchalance in his tone yet his words anything but. _I love you_. The words feel heavy on his tongue still, so he swallows it down, and holds it for another time, for whispers in the dark. “Feels like that ought to be a given by now.”

He holds his breath, lies in wait to see if Gon will reject his words, use the air of an island too far away to take it all back. Killua scolds himself mentally, because there’s a reason this revelation does not terrify him as much as it would have if brought on a year ago. He does not have to fear because of who he loves, and that’s Gon. As if it could have been anyone else. 

Sure, there’s still the doubt that lingers in his mind, but it’s barely audible now when he has Gon talking to him on the phone, voice the same as ever, voice cutting through the air with childlike wonder, gentle wind chimes singing along to the breeze. The static cuts through a few times, but Killua doesn’t mind. 

“Ah, but it’s nice to be reminded, isn’t it?” Gon says, voice light and easy. Killua can hear the smile in his voice, just on the edge of a laugh. 

“Yeah,” Killua says, and closes his eyes, saves the imprint of the stars in the back of his mind. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Killua?” Gon says. 

“What is it?” Killua asks. For the first time, he feels calm, like the storm is pouring out its last few raindrops to give way to the sun behind the clouds. 

After the fire, the flowers finally can begin to bloom. 

“Can you help me with my homework tomorrow?” Gon asks, voice rushed and sheepish. 

Killua’s eyes snap open. “What? No!” But his face splits into a grin, and he must look a little bit wild, smiling so wide when there is no one else around him but the crickets that chirp along in conversation. Killua doesn’t care. 

“But Killua!” Gon groans, dragging out every syllable of his name, rolling over his tongue like he absolutely needs to get it right, even if it’s the furthest from his first time saying it. “You’re so smart! I keep mixing up the numbers, and Aunt Mito said I need to do good on my next test.” 

For all of their arguments that pursue through the night, Killua can’t help the laughter that bubbles through his mouth, the happiness inside him overwhelming and wonderfully real. 

_“But have you asked the ocean, who loves you?” said the stars._

_“Oh,” said the moon._

“Can I have two, please?” Killua asks, handing over a few jennies to the vendor, the smell of sugar around him intense. 

“Just give me a second,” she replies, pausing to wipe the sweat of her face with a tissue. She looks incredibly tired and overworked, and Killua feels a little bit sorry. His feet already ache slightly from having ran around the nearby amusement park with Alluka, trying all the rides and concession stands, but he can’t imagine what she must feel like, having to go over the same routine over and over for hundreds of impatient customers. The sun beats down heavily on the boardwalk, slow in its descent into the sea, reflecting a mosaic of different shades of orange and pink. 

“It’s okay,” he tells her, not knowing how else to reassure her that he’s not going to go into a rage if his cotton candy comes a second too late. 

Killua watches the cotton candy take form around the stick, fluffy and huge. The vendor hands two of them to Killua, and he mumbles a quick _thank you_ before ducking out of the line for the next person to replace him. He makes his way towards Alluka, sidestepping and dodging through the other families and tourists milling around, some holding the same snack as he is. He finds her at the edge of the pier, legs dangling off of the edge, staring out into the sea. 

“I brought food,” Killua says, settling down next to her, careful not to let the strong breeze blow the cotton candy away. There are rules on sitting at the edge like this, but miraculously, no one bothers or scolds them, lets them keep this pocket of sunset for themselves. 

She turns to him, but instead of Alluka, it’s Nanika, dark black eyes full of content and face turned upwards in a smile. “Thank you, Killua.” 

“Alluka got tired, huh?” Killua says, and pats her head before she’s even about to ask him to, a comforting ritual second nature to him by now. “Been a while since you came out, I’m glad to see you.” 

Never one to have broken his word, Killua tries to spend as much time with both Alluka and Nanika. He makes it a habit to show them that he cares, love for them unfolding and pouring out in magnitudes to make up for the affection they all deserved to receive during their childhood. Sometimes, he messes up, but it’s never without an apology right after and a resolution to do better next time. 

“I love you, Killua,” Nanika just says, leaning into his touch, and turns her eyes back once again to the sea that lays bare in front of them, waves meeting the sand, going and leaving without ever stopping, an undecided destination never to be met. 

Killua hums, and faces forward. “Love you, too.”

He takes a bite from the cotton candy, and it’s every bit as sweet as he expected it to be. The snack melts on his tongue, and he takes another before it completely dissipates. At the rate he’s going, he’ll finish it in no time, the sugar soon to be a distant memory. Killua looks over at Nanika, who hasn’t taken a single bite, which is unusual, because she has the same sweet tooth that he has. 

“Nanika, what’s wrong?” He asks, trying not to panic so easily. If she’s sick, he doesn’t know how he would get medicine, but he could always ask Leorio on what to do. 

She holds out the food in front of her, then turns to face him. She’s no longer smiling, though, and Killua tries not to overthink. “Killua,” she starts, “are you happy?” 

“What?” Killua asks, disbelieving. “Of course I am!” 

“Alluka—Alluka said,” she tries, but stumbles on her words. Nanika’s been getting better at speaking, especially with continued exposure to the world around her, but there are still times she comes up short, grasping for words she does not yet know. Killua understands what that feels like, clinging onto shadows that were never there. This has happened before, and while Killua has absolutely no idea what to do then, he does now. So he brings his hand up to her shoulder gently, and gives her a small smile. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he tells her, voice as soothing as possible. “You said Alluka’s part of this, right? You mind letting her come out so we can sort this out?” 

Nanika just nods at him, and closes her eyes. Her mouth trembles a bit, so Killua strokes her hair gently, determined to spare her something soft, “Love you, Nanika.” 

When she opens her eyes once more, they are a brilliant blue. Alluka blinks up at him slowly, still a bit sleepy, but then easily gathers her bearings once she sees the concerned look on Killua’s face. 

“Nanika told you,” she says. 

“I think I’m missing something here,” Killua says, confused. “I have lots of fun with you guys. I’m perfectly happy!” 

Alluka slumps, twirling the cotton candy in her fingers as her legs sway beneath her. “You just look sad sometimes, Brother.”

Killua knits his eyebrows together, trying to think of a time where he had shown that he was upset at their situation. There are the nightmares, along with mild panic attacks that their family is still after them, and there was the time with Leorio, but he can’t think of any where he’s stated that he was sad. The past still creeps up at him, sure, but he tries to move forward as best as he can. 

“Just,” Alluka starts, filling in the silence Killua doesn’t know how to break through, “I don’t know if you know that you’re doing it, but sometimes you just look far away? Not really sad, but not here.” 

“I’m sorry,” Killua says quickly. He didn’t know it had been slipping out this whole time, enough that his sisters would pick up on it. Killua doesn’t know how to stop. 

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” Alluka tells him insistently, shaking her head. “But Brother...if you want something, you’d go get it, wouldn’t you?” 

“What do you mean?” But he knows exactly what she’s talking about, where this conversation is going, because this is the exact route his mind always goes, a well-worn path favored by his heart. 

“You look really happy whenever Gon calls,” Alluka says, and Killua thinks about a night months before, in a hotel room, a finger inches away from a map drawing of Whale Island. 

“I’m happy when I’m with you guys, too,” he says stubbornly, tearing his gaze away from her and meeting the sun instead. It flares back at him, orange bleeding into red as its time runs out. 

“I know,” Alluka says. “But it doesn’t erase the fact that he makes you really happy, even just talking on the phone with him. Don’t you think it’s time to go see him?” 

“I don’t know,” Killua says, foregoing his usual response of _they both aren’t ready yet._ He doesn’t know why or how, but something inside of him has shifted, a moment passed unnoticed and unseen, the weight on his shoulders slowly righting itself. He tries to remember when this had started, but cannot pinpoint it between Leorio’s comforting hand on his shoulder and Gon’s cheeky voice on the phone two nights prior. “I don’t know,” he repeats. 

Alluka takes his hand, a little sticky from grasping the cotton candy stick for too long, but he doesn’t pull away. “Me and Nanika, we’re still going to be here. No matter what.” 

“That’s one thing I do know,” Killua says, holding her hand tight, the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Gon is too, you know.” 

Killua breathes, in and out, lets the wind pass over him, listens to the faraway joyful screams coming from the amusement park that stands almost a hundred meters away. “What if we hurt each other again?” he asks, the fear seeping through his words. 

“But that’s the whole purpose of this, isn’t it? You get to try again. And again and again,” Alluka says, taking a small bite from the cotton candy. “You’re going to do it right this time. Just like us and Nanika, you try to understand us, and that’s what matters.” 

Killua lets out another exhale, and looks at his sister. The sun frames her delicately, yellow light on pale skin, warmth spreading over the edges, pouring out over her hands and trailing over her arms. Alluka’s words settle over him, truth underlying and promises unspoken. _You get to try again_. He smiles and thanks the stars for her, not for the first time. “You’re too smart for your age.” 

“Well, one of us has to be,” she replies, leaning away. 

“Hey!” Killua almost shouts, laughing, then ruffles her hair, getting cotton candy sugar tangled within the knots and beads. She huffs at him, but there never is any malice. 

“You’re a lot more than the people you can protect, Brother,” she says, once they’ve calmed down once more. The sun is almost done with its journey, and soon enough, the crickets will come out to greet the moon. “Do something for yourself now.” 

“I know,” is all Killua says, and that seems to be enough for her. Alluka nods at him, then focuses on the snack before her, taking small bites with eyes scrunched up at the sweetness. 

Just as steady as the sun sinks into the ocean and how the moon will come to follow after it, Killua understands. He finally knows what Leorio had been trying to tell him all those nights ago and what Alluka spares him now, that no matter what, he will always have friends to lean on, people who will never leave his corner. 

_Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence_

For once, it is not night time when Gon calls Killua, but early into the afternoon, the sun right above his shoulders. 

Killua answers after no less than three rings, curious because it is well out of their weekly phone calls. Alluka mouths _Gon?_ to which he nods, pressing the phone to his ear, excusing himself from the table where they are eating a late lunch. 

“Gon? Is something wrong?” he asks, once he’s outside. There’s a park nearby, so he walks over to the nearest bench and sits down, with the perfect view of kids messing around on a playground. The sun splits cleanly on them and the trees that make up the park. One of the mothers stop her child from running off too fast to join his friends, grabbing his shirt and making him stand still as she crouches down and massages a white lotion onto his arms. The child says nothing as she does so, and Killua recognizes it as sunscreen. He doesn’t understand how the child accepts it so readily, not when Killua can still remember the pungent smell after all these years. 

“Oh, I’m okay!” Gon answers, and Killua can hear the rustling of bedsheets in the background, along with the same muffled static. “What time is it for you over there?” 

“It’s a bit past noon, Alluka and I were having lunch,” he says. 

“Am I bothering? Sorry!” Gon says quickly, voice a bit higher than normal. 

“No, you’re not bothering,” Killua reassures him before he could feel Gon start to overthink. “What’s up?” 

“My sunflowers bloomed yesterday! They’re really beautiful. Aunt Mito says that they could even grow tall one day, so I’ve been spending afternoons talking to them because I read once that it helps them grow. I’m really excited!” Gon says, but Killua knows that this is not what he called to say. If Killua knows anyone, he knows Gon, and he would have waited for their weekly calls, or had just sent him a text. 

“I can send you a picture tomorrow! It’s too dark right now, so you wouldn’t be able to see it if I did, but I can still try, if you want? Also, if you have any stories you would want me to tell them, I can—”

“Gon,” he says, feeling a little guilty for cutting because Gon did sound genuinely ecstatic over his new flowers, but he’s rambling. “What’s wrong? Really, this time.”

It takes a while before Gon speaks again, but when he does, it’s no longer cheerful, but quiet and hesitant. 

“I know I’ve already apologized for...what happened, for what I did, but—” he starts. Killua sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, and remembers how the world still moves around him. 

“And I’ve already forgiven you,” Killua tells him, voice soft. It's true when he says it. They’re moving past this, and it couldn’t have ever started if he never forgave Gon. There’s just more he knows that still needs to be said, more than apologies. “And it’s not like you’re the only one at fault here.” 

“I know,” Gon replies, and if he sounds a little sad, Killua doesn’t comment on it. “But I don’t think I fully understood what I put you through back then. So if it’s alright, could you let me try again?” 

“Only if you come and find me,” he blurts out, but it’s not a mistake. Killua means it, and his heart is beating all sorts of terribly fast, as he awaits Gon’s answer. He breathes in, but cannot exhale this air, tinged with the longing Killua has finally put a name to. This is him, telling Gon that he wants to see him, after all this time, laying it all out in front of him. A given, but also a reminder. That this is only the beginning, if Gon will choose it with him. 

Killua thinks, _I have not known love for long, but I think this is what it does — it lets me return. So please trust me, to come back to you._

“You mean that, Killua?” Gon finally says, and there’s an undercurrent of excitement, a happiness Gon isn’t quite capable of hiding, breached with meaning and truth. “You really mean that?” 

“You’re a Hunter, aren't you?” he says, question in form but an answer in everything else, telling Gon everything he needs to know. 

“Killua!” Gon just says, all laughter and cheerfulness, the joy traveling over the line and into Killua’s heart, pounding still but fuller than it’s felt in such a long time. They haven’t lost anything to distance, after all. Once they’ve calmed down, Gon says, “You’ll never see me coming.” 

“I’m not gonna make it easy for you,” Killua says, already mentally listing places in his head Alluka and he could travel to in the few weeks to come, a flurry of tourist attractions and roadside views, skylines and green valleys blurring together. 

“Never expected you to,” Gon says, the smile through his voice unwavering. Killua can hear forever in it. 

Killua looks around him once more, the playground right in front of him, children swinging on monkey bars and riding down slides. There is happiness all over him right now, from the delighted squeals of the children to the dogs chasing after each other to the side and to where he sits on the bench right now, phone pressed firmly into his ear. Killua doesn’t want to let it go, so he tells Gon, shares this normal but extraordinary scene right in front of him. 

Killua, voice steady and on the brim of happiness, turns this into what he hopes is a casual remark, _the park looks really pretty today, even after it rained yesterday._ What he means to say, really is: remember that distance does not have to take anything away from us, that we will see each other again, and it will all have been worth it. 

He doesn’t need to ask to know that Gon understands. 

“You said it was dark over there, right? Gon, shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Yeah, I should,” comes the reply, but there is no trace of guilt. “I should let you continue your lunch.” 

Killua nods, even though Gon can’t see him. He imagines where Gon must be right now, on his bed looking out the window, where the moon undoubtedly shines in the sky, its reflection on the ocean ripples by waves. He mentally counts the hours in his head, time zones have always been a tricky thing, and figures out that it is well past two in the morning on Whale Island. He decides not to comment on it, though. “See you around, then?” 

“See you, Killua,” Gon says, but this time, it’s for real. 

_If I could have done it all again, I would have loved you better. But I could not have loved you more._

“It’s beautiful,” Alluka breathes out from behind him. 

Killua nods, nothing else to add. The meadow they now stand fits that exact description and some more. There are flowers as far as the eye can see, with small cottages sitting on the horizon miles away. Sunflowers follow the path of the very celestial being they are named after, while the dandelions collect in the very middle, a spot of faint white among the vibrant colors surrounding them. Killua doesn’t know that many flowers, that’s more of Gon’s area of expertise, who had taken up a bit of gardening as a getaway from studying, but he tries to name them nonetheless. Bluebells to his right, red poppies line the road they stand on, and there are yellow flowers that Killua can’t figure out, either daffodils or marigolds. 

“We picked a good spot, didn’t we?” Alluka says. 

“You always pick a good place to visit,” Killua says in return. He’s grateful for each and every place they have ventured into, for all the things he’s seen on their travels. He would not be the same without every attraction they’ve visited, without every mountain, and every ice cream shop. It is the forest where he had learned about wildfires, and it is within the bustle of a city where he had been taught that there are those who will stay. 

Now, he stands in the middle of a meadow, underneath the blazing sun, but it does not prickle down his neck like it used to. There is no sunscreen, no long sleeves to protect him. He stays right where he is, underneath the rising sun, ready to greet it hello. The brightness is all-consuming, illuminating everything that it touches, shadows no longer present. Killua knows that if he looks away, the sun will still be there, in the sky and in his eyes, constant in its uprising. 

It’s terribly different from the forest of Kukuroo Mountain, with all its trees looming around him, and an entirely different story from the grove of trees in East Gorteau, smoke engulfing his lungs as it awaits the storm to come. This meadow holds nothing similar, and Killua is thankful for it. 

He picks a flower gently from the ground, and tucks it behind his sister’s ears, a brilliant pink to match the dress she wears. She giggles, and smiles brightly at him, a sight the sun can only hope to compete with. Later, they will have a picnic right by the daisies, and Killua will attempt to make a flower crown for both Alluka and Nanika, but for all his fingers are nimble, they cannot weave as well as Alluka’s. She laughs at the weak structure of his flower crowns, but accepts it delightedly all the same, carefully resting it on her hair. 

Killua doesn’t have a home in Kukuroo Mountain anymore, and hasn’t for a while now, but he finds he’s perfectly fine out here without the darkness. 

_Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there someday._

Killua Zoldyck, the former heir to the family business of assassination, is on the cusp of adolescence when he steps outside of the cottage, only to be stopped by Alluka, who claims that he had forgotten his cellphone on the table. Killua thanks her for the reminder, and heads back inside to place it in his pocket, makes a mental note that he will have to call Gon later as per their usual weekly phone calls. They have a lot of traveling to do today, the sun only beginning it’s ascent, but for the first time in more than a year and a half, they have a specific destination in mind. No more detours. 

Tomorrow, Gon will catch up to them. He hadn’t said it exactly, but Killua knows it will only be a matter of time before he sees his best friend again. Gon had found Ging on a quest throughout the world, and Killua is not any more difficult. He wonders how Gon looks like now, if he grew any taller, if his hair is any longer, if his voice tends to crack the way Killua’s does at the end of his sentences, to Alluka’s never ending amusement. He thinks of Gon and wonders what will have changed, but doesn’t need to know what has remained the same, because at the end of the day, they are still Gon and Killua, who have braved through it all, apart but now, together. 

They’re heading to Bisky’s house today. Killua had called her in advance, swallowing his pride and asking that he teach his sister Nen. It was Alluka’s decision to finally learn the basics to defend herself and Nanika, and Killua is not inclined to disagree. She will have to learn it the hard way, no matter how long it may take; Killua doesn’t want Alluka’s pores to be forced open like how it had been for him and Gon. They will take it slow and steady. Killua doesn’t have to fear their family because if anyone could protect them, it’s Bisky. 

Tomorrow, he and Gon will finally share a sunset. Killua tries to quell the excitement that courses through his veins, thrums in anticipation for what is about to begin, but it is to no avail. He’s finally going to see Gon, after all this time, and they will take the first step towards what they have been working for. Leorio had said that it’s no fun to grow alone, and Killua agrees. He’s through doing enough things by himself, especially now that he has his sisters and Gon. 

He’s still trying to figure out this better, newer, calmer kind of love. He doesn’t know what it is exactly, this feeling delicate and fragile, but strong and resilient all the same. But he knows that sometimes, it’s just a matter of seeing. Seeing Gon. 

He will see Gon, old familiar parts and new puzzle pieces all in one, and they will grow together. 

“Ready to go?” Alluka asks, holding the door open for him. There is a sunhat perched gracefully on her head, bag in her arms. Before anything else, they will have to walk all the way to the docks, where a boat awaits them. 

“Yeah,” Killua says. He thinks about tomorrow and what it will bring. Tomorrow, in a different place, but under the exact same sky. Tomorrow, and the things he will say, the heart he will finally hear, beating in the same rhythm as his own. He can’t wait. 

Killua takes a step out into the sun. 

_Remember how the world used to feel on your best days, expansive and bright. The world is still here, and you can find your way back to it._

(In the distance, two bodies collide in a hug, a face cradled gently. 

“What was that all about?” 

A soft smile, as the sun shines down on them, for what feels like the first time. 

“I just wanted to make sure it was still you.”) 

**Author's Note:**

> authors of the quotes I used in order: Sue Zhao, Ocean Vuong, Virginia Woolf, Richard Siken, F. Scott Fitzgerald, [this post](https://purutsukid.tumblr.com/post/187648732434/the-moon-asks-a-question-by-dirgewithoutmusic), Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Sue Zhao (again), A.A. Milne, and [this post](https://podencos.tumblr.com/post/150007381888)
> 
> you can find me on tumblr [here](https://sunlitday.tumblr.com)! thank you for reading! :D


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